The Bet
by chichirichick
Summary: Soul makes the mistake of accepting a bet with Maka: to do whatever she says for an entire day. He really just should have known better.
1. For A Smile

I should not be doing this, but here you go, another fic started without finishing all the others. I have too many ideas in my head. I'm pretty sure this one isn't going to go above PG-13, though.

* * *

Maka's smile was becoming one of those things I craved and, worst of all, there was this new feeling blossoming in my chest every time it was _me _who made her smile, some kind of overactive pride that made my heart flutter. See, it's just that bad, so bad it's making me use phrases like _heart flutter_ and I've even gone so far as to say _butterflies in my stomach_. That's how I got myself into this mess in the first place, looking at that goofy, self-righteous grin of hers, the one reserved for the times when she knows she's right and she's just daring me to try to prove her wrong. My only drive was to make that grin explode into her smile, so I fell for it, said _yes _when I know I really should have said _no_.

"If we win, you do whatever I say for a whole day." That statement was accompanied by the previously referenced grin that was already starting the knot in my stomach.

"You're on." And that was me throwing caution to the wind, not considering even an ounce of the consequences, just basking in the glow of the way that smile went ear to ear in reply.

This should have been the easiest win. A basketball game, three versus three, girls versus boys. I knew from the beginning that Kid would be our handicap, but I thought at least Black Star and I could carry the show. Of course, Black Star didn't inform me he went a little too hard during practice, going over the top with his Shadow Star antics which as we all well know drains him. With a last-minute substitution of the usual underperforming Liz replaced by a rowdy Patty, it became clear after the first couple of minutes we were doomed, or I should say _I_ was doomed.

Not to mention Maka didn't understand the idea of personal space with me anymore, not that I should actually complain about that. So guarding became skin to skin, her pressing against me in ways that made me struggle for breath. Cold shower thoughts had to dominate since basketball shorts are unforgiving, leaving my brain blank on tactics. That gorgeous _idiot_ even tried a layup, something completely out of her usual ability, which sent the two of us toppling, me doing exactly what a weapon is supposed to do and protected my meister, even if that meant my meister ended up on top of me, her warm, sweaty body just melting into mine.

That agonizing layup was the game point, and as if to rub salt into my fucking wounds she let go of one of those glowing smiles right there, laying on top of me as if that was _fine, normal, easy_. I had to tip her over, get her off me because my body was definitely losing its control, forcing me to tuck my knees against my chest. It looked convincing, like a man fighting shame and disappointment in a loss rather than a poorly timed boner, and I was rewarded, or maybe punished, with her soft hand pushing back my bangs. "You lose."

I just looked at her breathlessly, definitely one hundred percent sure she didn't understand all the implications of her saying that. Yeah, I'd lost the game, but _fuck_ was I losing the fight, too. I had tried to tell myself a million times that I wasn't falling, I'd never be so stupid as to let myself think I had a chance of breaking through that delicate but well-guarded heart. But, damn it, I'd do anything for that smile.

* * *

"So, slave-for-a-day-Saturday?" Patty chimed as she suddenly popped up over the two of us.

Maka and I had just been sitting in the grass, minding our own business after thankfully finally getting Black Star to quiet down about the travesty of the game. "Slave?" I groaned. "Why do you have to call it that?"

"Don't be a sore loser!" Liz laughed as she pushed past her sister and grasped on to Maka's shoulders to whisper in her ear.

"She'll probably just make you do some stupid, embarrassing stuff," Black Star yawned, already bored with a conversation that wasn't on the topic of Black Star.

"Liz!" Maka hissed, pressing the older girl's face away from her ear.

I couldn't help but notice that cute little pink hint to her cheeks and, _Death, am I far gone_. "Don't give her any ideas," I grumbled in Liz's direction.

"I think you'd like my ideas," Liz shrugged before breaking out into a grin. "Anyway, I'm sure Maka's been thinking of more than enough to keep you occupied for a whole day."

I grimaced, not just because of all the possibilities she had at her fingertips but more so because Maka seemed nervous, something I never liked to see on her face and feel vibing off her soul. It was a deep thing, a big feeling because I caught it coming in waves off of her.

"Anyway, how is it different from usual? Maka orders Soul around all the time," Black Star cheesed out a grin.

"No way," I griped, sending a kick his direction that he easily deflected with his hand. "Cool guys don't take orders. It's called teamwork, maybe you should try it sometime." That started the scuffle, the thing I wanted to replace the tension of the conversation since a good 'ole knock-down-drag-out between me and Black Star usually always ended with both of us in a better mood and the crowd amused. As we played through the fight I also felt her waves smooth out, even heard a laugh or two as Black Star and I got to rolling around. Uncool me was wishing that by the time we were through she'd be back to grinning.

* * *

Saturday morning had me in a panic. The prime reason should have been the anticipation of what the day had for me but it was the complete disruption to our normal morning flow that had sent me spinning. It was 9 AM and she hadn't left her room. _9 AM_ for Maka Albarn who was usually banging down my door by 7 AM, only an hour reprieve from the 6 AM weekday routine. In all my working memory, I could not find a time when I'd woken her or even let myself into her room, always knocking and waiting for her to open the door.

The scenarios that were playing in my head were even worse, ranging from borderline PG-13, for fuck's sake I am a teenage boy, to medical drama. With trembling fingers, I knocked on the door while my other hand clenched the knob. "It's open." I spent a second analyzing the voice, not sleepy, not gruff with sickness, just Maka. Maybe not sweet Maka, but not pissed Maka either.

The newness of this had the hairs tingling on the back of my neck. Maka was still laying in bed on her side with those loose blond locks cascading back across the pillow. The rest of the scene was PG but my body didn't seem to care, my stomach doing a little flip as she slid her arm underneath her to bring herself up on her elbow. I got close enough that I could consider sitting on the side of her bed. As if I'd have the guts. "You OK?"

"I guess," she murmured.

I swallowed hard, eyes darting from her to that empty spot on the bed. "What's wrong?"

It was obvious she had followed my eyes, a soft smile pulling on her lips. "Sit down."

"Oh, I-"

"Today you do what I say, right?" Her eyebrow raised a little.

"Everything?" came as an absolutely not cool squeak which made her explode into laughter and that stupid damn grin. My legs crumbled with that healthy dose of anxiety and embarrassment and I took a hard seat next to her, eyes focused on my hands that clutched at my knees.

"You didn't put parameters on it before…" she sighed and I felt the bed move and saw her head peeking next to my leg, elbows holding her up. She pressed herself against my arm, setting it on fire. "Are you going to be a sore loser?"

"No," I grunted in reply, bumping her shoulder from my arm as playfully as I could muster. "But you still being in bed is weird."

"I'm changing things today," she barely whispered it and before I even had a second to latch on to it she was up, pushing herself back to slide off of the other side of the bed. "Did you make coffee?"

"Yeah." I couldn't break that morning ritual even without her appearance.

Her bare feet padded over to me and she held out her hand, pulling me to the safety of standing. "Could you make pancakes?"

I sighed desperately as the grin broke across her face. "Well, yeah." And even though my dopey answer stretched that smile a little further it wasn't the same. The morning was off and it had heightened my senses, made that bit of anxiety she was trying to hide glow around the edges.

Maka seemed to come apart as I stared until she tugged on my hand again. "Well? I have to get dressed and I don't think you want to be here for that."

_As if I'd have the guts for that,_ I grimaced. "OK, OK. Pancakes." I started towards the door and paused at the frame, tossing my head over my shoulder. "Chocolate chip?"

That was better, no falter in her face. "Yeah!"

Her last-minute laugh as I walked out the door fed me in a way I couldn't possibly put into words.

* * *

When I got out of the shower she had laid clothes on my bed and while I was ready to let out a scoff of disbelief at the fucking audacity here, I felt that weird part of me liking it. _Grandpas_ got their clothes laid out for them, not young, cool guys. And again, no personal space: Not just in the sense that physicality didn't matter but that my space didn't need to be a mystery to her, and I had to admit this wasn't the first time. She came in to get me up in the morning or when she couldn't sleep and needed to just spill until whatever getting to her was gone. I never locked my door and barely ever closed it except to sleep or change.

This was one of those times, staring at the sets of clothes on my bed with the door closed as I tried to feign annoyance enough to get rid of this smirk on my face. The jolt of the knock at the door let my face fall as I pulled the towel around my waist tighter. "Yeah?"

Maka opened the door and strode in, her normal grin back on her face probably after stuffing them with the pancakes I'd left. When her eyes hit me she turned on her heels, stumbling an extra step closer with the misplaced momentum. "Sorry!"

"I told you to come in," I rolled my shoulders, trying not to feel my own embarrassment. "Anyway, not anything you haven't seen. What's the deal with the clothes?" I could see the blush on her cheeks as she turned back to look at the bed instead of me but it made no sense. I wasn't lying, it was definitely something she'd seen before, hell, we play shirts versus skins all the time, but there she was, unable to even look at me.

"The blue's for right now, the grey's for later," it came out as a mumble from her lips.

I added extra drama to my sigh, "So not only do I have to do what you say but I get extra laundry, too."

My joke was enough to make her laugh and force her eyes up to my face, a nervous smile pushing the blush higher on her cheeks. "You're not going to ask me why?"

I blew some air between my lips before picking up the first shirt, the blue one. "No point." I tossed the shirt in my hands as I tried to decipher the look on her face, that embarrassment tinted by worry. "Anything else or can I get dressed already?"

"No, get dressed," she averted her eyes again as if she was just going to stand there while I changed. "And you're going to have to drive to the first place."

"Chauffeur, too. Great." With how funny I was feeling I wasn't too sure I wanted her arms wrapped around me on the bike to begin with since that was already conflicting enough. "Guess I'm doing the dishes, too?"

"That would just be cruel," she laughed before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me wondering if she knew the definition of the word. Didn't she realize this whole day was cruel?


	2. The Mall

The mall. The uncoolest place in the history of creation. I could feel the coolness drain from me just walking across the threshold of those big sliding doors, but at this point, I had no choice. I made that bet.

The ride over was uneventful, but I had been right: the arms wrapped around me weren't a comfort today. Instead, they just kind of oozed off more of that anxious vibe, and I started to wonder what we were even doing. This was stuff she was supposed to be into, wanted me to do, but all of it carried this weird nervous tone, like someone playing an untuned guitar while the rest of the band was in perfect harmony. It was disjointed and I honestly couldn't get my mind off of it which left me scowling even more than the atmosphere.

Maka guided me through, insisting on taking my hand like I was a toddler that could wander off. As if anything in this place could entice me to split from her, but whatever, _fine_, holding her hand was a thing I could do. Fuck, who was I kidding, it's what I wanted to do, even though I kept my hand limp in hers, trying not to squeeze or rub my thumb absently across her knuckles. That's the crap that goes in my pathetic daydreams, not on a day when all I'm doing is living out my duty.

I let her lead me into one of the department stores, rushing past the assault to my senses that was the perfume section, through the shoes and purses, and finishing at that absurdly hip teen's section. This felt like my worst nightmare come true, pounding contemporary sound that could barely be called music and girls eyeing the two of us with those stares that either placed me as _whipped_ or _friend-zoned_. Somehow, I was simultaneously feeling both since technically all my power was gone and I sure as hell wasn't anything more than a friend as far as Maka was concerned.

"You're going to help me pick a dress," the voice was self-assured but the smile was pure bullshit, another tally-mark in the discomfort column.

"OK." Because what else do I say to that? _Hell no, I'd prefer not to make comments on what looks good on you because I'd prefer not to think about what looks good on you because it drives me crazy?_ "What's it for?"

"Later." That was murmured to the ground, hiding anything in her face from me.

Maka released my hand and started walking through the stacks, fingertips running over the hangers and making them click in a way that was like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. I wasn't consulted for the picking process just forced into pack-horsing each selection around, my hands littered with hangers and fabrics in a spectrum of colors. "One dress means trying on eighty?"

"That's hyperbole," she rolled her eyes at me but laughed at her own lame comment. "Guys are lucky, it's usually just one fit so your only option is colors. We have cuts and shapes that either make you look better or look like a box."

"And we get other people picking out our clothes," I muttered. It had the opposite effect than I intended, watching as the blush came back to her cheeks and her mouth snapped shut rather than laughing at my dig. This was painful and about to get worse as Maka started the walk towards the dressing rooms. I swooned as the thought came to my mind that she might actually make her come in with her, stuck in a tiny stall while she stripped down and by the time we got to that brightly lit hallway of slatted doors the heat had come to my face, definitely telling me my complexion was now closer to tomato than snow.

Maka opened the door to one of the cubicles before stopping short and throwing her voice over her shoulder, "Just stand here, OK?"

"Yeah," came with a sigh of relief as I leaned against the panel between two doors. _As if she'd let me go in while she changed, what an idiot. Why would I even think that?_ Those and other me-directed insults circled through my brain as I listened to her shuffling behind the door.

"OK," she popped open the door, letting me open it the rest of the way while holding my breath.

It was a light blue sun-dress, straps thin to show off those delicate angles of her shoulder blades, making me want to run a finger over them. _Get it the fuck out of your mind. You're the friend here. Only a friend._ "Looks nice," and even as the words left my mouth I knew they weren't the right ones but the frown that spread in the mirror just gave that thought the extra punch, making my gut turn.

"Close the door," she sighed before gripping at the hem.

I shut it, borderline slamming since the only thought in my head at that point was a resounding scream of _idiot_. "Shit," I muttered, pushing my hands through my hair and starting the hard work of searching for synonyms for nice that wouldn't piss her off. This time it took longer for her to open it again and she did so wordlessly, eyes blankly staring from the mirror while not even offering the question. I almost wanted to scream _what do you want me to say_ but I knew that would be the worst possible thing.

Even worse was the fact that this one did actually take my breath away. It wasn't anything fancy, looked like a skin-tight version of one of her nightshirts, short capped sleeves and a length ending just above her knee. The material looked way better than a t-shirt though, and I had to stop myself from just thinking about reaching out and touching it, touching her. Even better, she had somehow found a green that went just perfectly with her eyes, making them glow back at me from the mirror. "That's it," it was embarrassingly close to a wheeze but I couldn't manage much more than that.

Her hands came to her hips just made matters worse as she drew attention to a waist that had been slowly making its way towards hourglass as we added years to our partnership. I'd definitely had to stop calling her no-tits, an era of behavior that I was growing to regret anyway. "You're just saying that to get out of looking at anymore," she huffed.

"No," I was struggling for breath and sense, no longer just searching for words because most of the ones I could say were wrong but more so because there weren't any in my head that fit the feeling or what I was seeing. It was the lamest but the closest I could get when I murmured, "You're beautiful."

Maka's hands slid across her stomach, crisscrossing low as she held her elbows. "You mean it?"

"I won't lie to you." _Keep in the truth, sure, but I won't tell you things that aren't true._ "You can keep trying more on if you want, but I don't think you have to." Her head bowed and it was hard to watch her face in the mirror, especially as her hand came up to obscure her mouth. For a horrifying second, I was sure she was crying so I took a step closer, putting my hand on her shoulder, feeling that beautiful silkiness beneath my fingers. "Maka…" The new angle gave me a look at her hiding a smile, though, not some tears and I felt the world seem to flip underneath me.

"What?" She looked up, letting the hand fall from her mouth as she tried to tuck away the grin.

I floundered, pulling my hand back like it was touching a flame instead of the softest thing I'd ever had beneath my fingers. "You gonna listen to me, or what?" came out as a bark and I had to resist the urge to squint at my own idiocy.

This produced a snort from her before she stopped resisting her own smile. "I guess. I'm still convinced you're just trying to speed this up."

"Whatever," I grumbled before turning away from her, trying to catch my breath and focus on the blankness of the door across from hers. The memory of that fabric, of her skin burning beneath it, was making that impossible and I started considering how to get myself out of whatever other torture she had planned. _But that smile_, I reminded myself. To which came the fast reply of, _Oh, fuck, I am whipped._ I felt the door hit me and the bustling start again so I took a few more steps back to the wall space between the doors, tempted to knock my head against it a few times in frustration.

While I waited for her to exit it was the famous two Souls, like an angel and a devil on my shoulder duking it out.

_**Tell her. You already said she was beautiful. That's wasn't so hard.**_

_Oh, that's a genius idea. Just ruin the only decent relationship - totally platonic but still - that you've ever had._

_**She wanted to just be with you today.**_

_You're friends. This is what friends do._

"What are you doing?" Her face was dangerously close to mine, peering at me with wrinkled eyebrows.

I realized I looked insane, head pressed against the wall with clenched fists at my side, movements I had made subconsciously during that mental argument. I saved myself from adding to it by swallowing a groan. "Nothing. Give me the extras." I didn't wait for her to fill the request, just grabbing the excess from her hands.

"Thank you," she chimed.

I was halfway down the hallway before I could even muster a mutter, "Yeah." While I tossed the hangers back on the throw-away rack she moved past me, her new dress trailing over her shoulder. By the time I caught up she was already at the register, chit-chatting chipperly with the girl behind the counter. "What's next?"

"Shoes," she smirked.

"Pair of sensible sneakers," I muttered. "That's my pick."

She rolled her eyes as the cashier handed her the bag and I mimicked it as she tossed the same bag at me.

"Chef, Chauffeur, pack-horse," I listed off as I followed her back towards the shoes.

"Next thing you know you'll add Martyr." Again, it was just her to laugh at herself.

I swung the bag forward, grinning as she looked back in annoyance at it hitting her right in the ass. "If you make me pick out shoes I'll earn it."

Maka couldn't help herself and laughed, face still attempting to look annoyed as I sent another swing of the bag into her. This lasted until we got to the shoes, her hand instantly coming up into a wave. "Liz!"

"Fuck," I groaned as my eyes fell on the faces I knew all too well: Liz, Patty, and Tsubaki.

"There they are!" Patty giggled, romping over to Maka and throwing her arms around her neck. "I knew we'd eventually run into you."

"Mall's not that big," I muttered.

"How's our little spoiled sport?" Liz swung her arm around my shoulders, giving a completely unnecessary squeeze.

It was Maka's smile as she answered that stopped me from another grumble. "No spoiled sport. He's been loyally following the bet."

I tried to stop it but my chest wouldn't listen, heaving a dreamy sigh at the sight of that face.

Before I even got it all the way out Liz was tugging at me again, her lips a hair from my ear. "Little too smitten there, buddy."

"Shut up," I snapped as I tried to get out of her harpy grasp. "Don't you all have something better to do?"

Tsubaki, while looking innocent as usual, couldn't seem to stop the playful tone from her voice, "We're just out having fun. It was a complete chance that we ran into you."

It was Maka who parted Liz from me, her hand drifting down my arm to grab the bag from my hand. "You're off the hook for shoes."

I tried to hide the goosebumps her touch had left behind. "What?"

"Just… meet me back here in half an hour." Now she swung the bag, tapping me in the leg. "I think there's a record store on the second floor."

"OK…" But it felt far from it and I struggled to take a step back from her to turn on my heels. I got one more tap from her before I actually made the move, feeling the girls' flock of eyes on me as I trudged off. This should have been freeing, gloriously left to my own devices with music within my reach but I felt my feet dragging. I was moving, but not with much gusto, stomping up the stairs to put myself closer to the rumored record store.

I didn't get much further than the top of the stairs, my eyes falling on a cheesy but striking enough title, _The Bookworm_. My mind wouldn't allow for any other options so I moved forward, that fresh smell of pages hitting me as I walked in. Emotional memory and scent are closely tied and that was one of those moments for me, my mind instantly flipping through the times she'd lean on me on the couch, pages always flipping at a steady rate. I kept up the memory lane act, picking up anything with a good looking cover and cracking the spine.

I'd never call myself a reader, especially if it was school-related. I could get through something on music or biography but the fiction that she flew through on a regular basis was mostly alien to me. Our apartment was slowly becoming lined with bookcases and remembering all the titles was definitely not something I was capable of, but my mind still held on to one or two authors that she'd gushed about at one point or another, little snippets of her voice ingrained in my memory. While I was feeling like the chance I'd pick wrong was pretty high, I was still sifting through, trying.

I finally settled on something the furthest from what I'd like, one of those old-timey romances that she usually could finish in a day. I'm not talking one of those dime-store deals with a Fabio lookalike on the cover, but the kind with _fine_ ladies who were too smart for their time who made men out of their league fall in love with them for their minds. All my indecision had actually wasted my time, so as soon as the bag was in my hand I had to start my way back down the stairs.

Maka was waiting right at the entrance of the department store, thankfully nosy-friends-free. There was still only one package in her hand and as I paused in front of her I nodded my head at the lone dress. "You're going barefoot tonight?"

Her smile was weaker, faltering even with a breathy laugh exiting her lips. "Just don't look at my feet, OK? Wasted most of my time listening to Liz anyway."

"No feet, got it." My stomach was turning to Jell-O as the handle of the bag burned between my fingers. "I, uh, got you something." I sucked in some air as time seemed to slow down, my eyes gauging every inch of her face for every minute reaction.

She was torturing me, her face almost blank. "Really?"

"Yeah." I tried to do it without my fingers trembling but failed miserably, especially as her fingers grazed over mine as she took the handle. I cut my fumbling by grabbing the other bag out of her hand, giving her the freedom to pick the book out from the plastic.

While she was holding hers, I was getting my own gift, a little delayed but even more intense than I had expected. There was the grin, the real one, and finally, all of that anxiety from the day melted from her features. That was the moment of the day that felt normal, that felt like us. "Sense and Sensibility." She clutched it to her chest, that beaming smile still soothing me. "I love this one."

My own smile tightened slightly, "Sorry, I knew I'd pick a repeat."

She shook her head, "Sort of. I've read it, but we don't have it at home." I didn't have a second to breathe out a reply before she stepped into me, arm circling around my neck. "Thank you."

Maka was one of those full contact huggers, leaving you pressed securely to her with no half-assed patting on the back. She sunk into you, squeezing so you were sure she meant it. I was dangerously close to a helpless whimper that I caught in my throat and transformed into something close to a sigh while my arms hesitantly wrapped around her waist. Unless you counted life-or-death situations were grabbing her out of the way ended with her in my arms, I never started a hug with her because it was always the same feeling, a perfect mix of euphoria and depression. "You just seemed like you needed it."

That was enough to release her grip on me. "What?"

_Be honest with her._

_**Forget it, let it go.**_

"You just…" I sucked my teeth quickly, jamming my hands in my pockets for some sensation other than her warmth. "I don't get it. You're not happy today like you're anxious or something."

"Oh," her voice warbled as she clutched the book back to her chest as if it would protect her.

"Look, if you're worried I'm pissed off, I'm not," the devil on my shoulder was hating this deluge but my mouth was busy running a marathon. "I don't care that I lost the bet. I don't care if I have to do what you want. It's not a big deal, spending the day with you. This is…" _What I like. You're what I like. _But that was not the finish line my tongue was going to reach. "It's fine, so stop worrying."

"Sorry," she murmured.

I instantly grumbled back at her, "Not a sorry thing. Just cut it out."

"Alright," and the soft laugh that followed it was genuine. Before I knew it, her warm hand was back in mine, fingers intertwining so I had no hope of just inertly coming along for the ride. I had to flex my fingers around hers, giving me those stupid butterflies again.

"What's next?" I huffed.

"Home." She started to pull me and I fell into pace with her, not sure if that was some kind of victory or just a complete display of jackassery.


	3. At the Piano

We got home and she disappeared into her room. I thought it was going to be just to drop off the package but the time stretched out and I went from waiting in the hallway to sitting on the couch to perusing through movie titles. I'd gotten so desperate I was glancing through the stack she'd brought back from the library, saying a solid _no_ for each one before I heard her door open and her footsteps start down the hall.

My honesty wasn't exactly paying off, that trail of agitation still following her all the way to the couch. I guess I could say that instead of being steady it seemed to rise and dip, one minute under control and the next spiking in my face. It didn't matter, I didn't like it. "Pick a movie."

The smirk on her lips was decent as she plopped onto the couch. "I thought I was giving the orders today."

"Well, am I wrong?" I got up as soon as she sat down, picking up the stack and tossing it in her lap. "It's almost lunchtime anyway, and I assume I'm still the Chef for the day."

She gripped one of the cases, her fingers going white in the clench. "I wasn't going to make you-"

I turned, starting the move to the hallway as she started the sentence and cut her off, "Just pick a movie. I'm going to make lunch." That sounded borderline pissed off because, well, I _was_. Being around me made her nervous? I get it, I can be irritable, she would say sullenly since that's her favorite word for me, but I was mostly nice to her, right? That sent me into a spiral of _let's list all the mean things Soul has ever done to Maka_ as I started the prep work for lunch.

Ramen was easy and you'd better believe I'm no chef so I set about boiling the water, laying out the bowls. Maka wouldn't be caught dead eating just the straight-up packaged stuff, so I knew I had to still chop fresh vegetables, garlic, ginger. There wasn't any laziness to it and while I'd probably never thought about it before I found myself being the example of how chefs put love into their food. If words hadn't been enough then hopefully this would be.

Maka was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her elbows leaning on the coffee table, her eyes focused on the screen. I caught a glimpse of the ancient outfits on the screen and suppressed an eye roll, knowing I was in for it from the second I put the tray down on the table. She whistled, a sound so wonderful that I had to rein in my grin before it broke across my face. "Nothin' special." I slumped down next to her, watching as she arranged each bowl and the sides in the usual order.

After setting the food up she leaned back with me, eyes still focused on the young women on the screen. Maka never ate right away, especially something hot, usually letting it get lukewarm. Normally I would scarf everything in the bowl without a second thought but I was too busy concentrating on her vibe, trying to read what I hadn't been able to figure out since we got home: _What was the point of today?_

_Just ask her. She won't lie to you just like you won't like to her._

_**But maybe that's a truth you don't want to know. What if she's starting to learn she can't stand you and this was the final test? A whole day of you fucking up and her seeing you for just what you are.**_

That seized up my throat, the breath choking right out of me. Even though the rational side of me was offering how ludicrous that would be, there was a panicked section of my mind that wouldn't let go. As if I needed more to spaz out more, I realized I was staring just long enough for her to notice, her eyes narrowing at me as I instantly tried to look interested in the screen. "Kate Winslet?" I jutted my chin at the scene.

"Yeah, she's playing Marianne." She flourished with her hand but I only saw it in my periphery, trying to avoid getting caught again. "In honor of the book, I present you _Sense and Sensibility_, the movie!"

"She's the main girl?" I knew the answer was probably no, but it would get her started without fail.

"No, that's Emma Thompson as Elinor."

"Ugh, Elinor?" I scooted myself forward, getting close enough to the bowl to dip my spoon in the broth. My mind had finally quieted down enough that it felt like I could eat hopefully with her conversation to get me through.

"It's a beautiful name!" Maka was amping up, her hands starting to highlight the screen. "And she's one of my favorite heroines."

I leaned on my elbow so I could have a view of her and still shovel food in my mouth. With cheeks stuffed with noodles, I waved my hand for her to continue.

Maka edged closer as if I couldn't hear her from the original distance, those eyes glowing like she was about to get an A-plus from the teacher. "She keeps that house together, always caring about others' emotions above her own. While she has some flaws, she's aware of them and works to better herself at every turn. Not to mention that while some may wrongly argue she's not as passionate as Marianne, she feels so much more inside, holding on to all of it for fear that it would somehow disrupt the rest of the world."

I chewed through another gulp, eyes only drifting from her to look at the screen again. "So which one is she in love with?"

"Edward! That's Hugh Grant in this one."

"Bad casting," I muttered.

Maka shrugged before finally turning her attention to her food, swirling the spoon around. "It was the nineties."

"A dark time," I grinned and got one back that I took a moment to savor. "So why won't she tell him in this one?" The girls in these movies always seemed to keep their love a secret, that slow burn that really took the two to three hours to finally culminate.

Maka sighed as her eyes pinned to the screen, her elbows coming beneath so she could prop her chin upon her hands. "They were quick friends. Talked about everything, got along, but when it came to the romance part Edward was pretty silent, reserved. Hard for a girl to tell a guy's true intentions when he's more inside his own head than out."

It had to be the ramen that was making me feel hot around the collar.

"And Elinor, well, she finds out he's secretly engaged, so she assumes he must not even care, just being nice for the sake of being nice and she tells herself that her own feelings, letting them out or acting on them, would just hurt him and hurt his fiance that she eventually meets. She just suffers with it, how much she loves him but doesn't think she'll ever have him." There was this long, sweet sigh at the end of that which definitely made my stomach flip regardless of being full of noodles.

"Does she tell him?" I half expected '_watch the movie'_ as a comeback but instead, Maka turned those beautiful green eyes to me, a weak smile on her face.

"No, he does." She let in a slow, shaky breath before continuing, "Don't you think he has to? I mean, her interest in him is obvious, but his…" Her eyes dropped to her bowl before she blew air through her lips. "His isn't anything like Colonel Brandon, the one that ends up with Marianne."

That didn't feel like what she was going to say but I focused on the screen, forcing my humor. "Alan Rickman's not even that hot, either."

Maka snorted laughter in reply, just now starting to put effort into eating after I was already done. _What else is new_. I didn't really want to get up, just leaned back into the couch, my arms spreading across the cushions as I let my distended belly rest.

_You're not in the past like that. Nowadays a guy just tells a girl that he can't stop thinking about her._

_**Yeah, especially when it means that guy's whole world could come crashing down.**_

I groaned and rested my head back against the couch, patting my belly as a cover story so that she'd laugh instead of asking me what was wrong. I got what I wanted, a sweet little chuckle from her before I focused on the ceiling like a guy more inside his own head than out.

* * *

There should have been more chores, like maybe cleaning the bathroom or dusting the bookshelves but she didn't give me any of that. Instead, my next order was to play the piano. "How long?" was my first question because I probably hadn't played in a month and I rarely played with her in the apartment. It was way too embarrassing.

"Until I say so." There weren't words I hated more in this world.

"Are you going to watch me?" That was an agonizing question because in the cramped space that we lived in the only real place to be was right next to me on the bench and while listening was bad, listening while her thigh pressed against mine would be pure misery.

"No." Her smile was gently like she knew, like she could read the entire panicked transcript in my brain. "I have things to do. Just want some background music."

"Then turn on the radio," I huffed but still threw myself on the piano bench. "I don't even know what to play. Your music isn't anything like my music."

She shrugged off my insult, "Play whatever you want, but you have to play." While I had much more to argue, she didn't let me, just turning quickly out of the doorway and padding off down the hall.

"Fuck." I clanged my fingers into the keys.

"Soul," came instantly to chide me as if she was still right behind me. The way that sound traveled in this apartment was sometimes scary.

"Fine!" I threw up my hands in surrender before gently letting them fall to the keys. I started with basic, overplayed classics that everyone knew just to get my fingers in gear, my mind on the piano instead of how awkward it felt to play for her even without her in the room.

While searching for a way to silence my own emotions, I finally realized the others were gone. That stupid uneasiness in the room, in the entire apartment, was nowhere to be found, and her soul was happily bouncing around from place to place, blooming with something close to our usual harmony. I wanted to be the grump but now I had no choice, giving into her wavelength and settling into the jazz that drove me to actually love the piano in the first place. This was an easy, endless slide of songs from blue to upbeat and each one seemed to level us even more, syncing in the chill of our existence.

_See? You don't make her anxious, you make her feel better._

_**Yeah, especially when you're out of her hair and not looking or talking to her.**_

I groaned and brought the music to a halt in a clatter of keys. The vibe was dead and I killed it with my idiotic, non-stop talking head and the worst part was that I heard her walking down the hall, footsteps stopping right behind me. I couldn't turn to look at her, already hating the look on her face without even seeing it and guessing at the annoyance that was going to be there. "What?" I shot out sharply. "I'm done playing, OK? Ask me to do something else, anything else, but I'm done."

Her fingers, not her entire hand but just the tips, touched at my shoulder, sending a tickling shockwave down my spine. "You OK?" I realized that her soul was still searching for me, trying to reconnect the line I'd just severed.

"Fine," I managed to eke out, quiet and short.

To my terror, she moved, sitting down at the bench next to me, firmly pushing her body against mine to get more space and to create a friction that drove me halfway to insane. "Don't know what else to play?"

I gave in and looked at her, suffering over that tentative smile on her face. "That's not it."

Her eyes shifted back to the keys, focusing carefully in thought. Maka's finger was slow, a little tremble to its arc but it hit its mark, sending out a clear, purposeful G note. She didn't say anything else, she just released me from the closeness by slipping back off the bench and starting the walk back to the hallway.

_Don't let her get away._

_**By doing what, exactly? What the hell could you possibly do to-**_

I cut off that start with that weird, dark beginning to a melody that I probably hadn't tried to think about in years. I knew the way she heard it was all about me, especially since that's how I had introduced it to her as a way to tell her what I was. _I'm messy, I'm quiet, I'm difficult and hard-headed at times, but I'm lonely, too. I'm hurting from things I can't exactly put my finger on and I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you about._ The song was supposed to fill in the gap, tell the things I couldn't. Music would always be easier than words for me.

Her footsteps stopped and I could envision her leaning against the doorframe. That dark side wanted to imagine a particularly painful look of disinterest and maybe a little annoyance, a look that I'd never actually seen her direct at me before but my mind could easily create to wound me. All the rest of me was begging, pleading, needing her to be taken by what I was doing, completely unable to tear herself away and so occupied with the task of trying to understand what she was hearing, get me in a way that maybe I didn't even get myself.

I closed it where I always did, an ending that didn't sound like an ending because I was still hoping I'd grow into something more than a lonely boy on a piano bench. Without even thinking, without waiting for the tone of the last note to dissipate I struck an extra G at the end, my finger's and my heart's way of telling her what I was scared to death of letting off my tongue. _You're part of me, for better, for worse, and I wouldn't change that for a second. _

The silence settled and I couldn't stop myself from needing to see the scene behind me, to either feed or destroy the nightmares my brain was coming up with. The bench creaked underneath me as I rolled my leg over and brought myself to face her. I don't cry, that's never been my way and I never expected that to change, but there it was, a face that made me want to burst into tears with relief. It wasn't some ear to ear grin, but a mellow smile that was tinged with pride. She let me see it just long enough to commit it to permanent memory before hiding it away by completing her exit of the room.

"Dinner at 5, you might want to get ready," she called absently from the hallway as if she didn't have my heart leaping from my chest and into her hands at that very moment. "The grey shirt."

"OK," I tossed back as loud as I could manage with the lump of emotion still clinging to my throat. Technically, I still had a lot of time, but it was my reprieve, her releasing me from doing this anymore just like I'd tantrumed for. Of course that meant that I turned back to the piano, fingers back to the keys and back to playing the melodies that brought at least her soul back to mine.


	4. Number 3

I was sweating, not because of the spring almost summer warmth that drifted through the open windows in the apartment but because I knew that dress was coming back for a second showing and the only reaction that even seemed remotely good enough for it was just grabbing her, feeling that silky fabric beneath my fingers and planting the kiss on her lips that I'd been daydreaming about since what felt like forever. I honestly couldn't even tell when the stupid crush side of this started, especially since I'd been so set on _not_ having one by teasing her and putting down the possibility of wanting her since we started this partnership. That was just a clever, or what seemed like clever at the time, ploy to force myself into staying platonic.

Maka's always been beautiful, and now I was faced with not only being forced to comment on it but having a will that was so beaten down by my oversized feelings that I might not be able to tone it down. My mind went to totally irrational places, like maybe I could get away with not looking at all or, worse yet, maybe kissing her wouldn't actually go over badly even though her default reaction was probably going to be a hefty Maka-chop. Not just sweating but pacing, shut off in my room was how I found myself the few minutes before Maka had set for us to leave.

I dreaded the knock and when it came, I felt my heart pound right along with it. "Yeah?" My voice was hoarse and strained. The door clicked open and she stepped through, stealing all of my breath and any of my heart that she hadn't already taken. It wasn't just the dress, which was still totally perfect on her especially as it hugged curves that she usually tried to hide, but she'd let her hair down and it drifted past her shoulders, falling in loose golden waves. _Oh, fuck_, I barely kept myself from uttering, feeling the words form on my lips but there was no strength for the sound behind them.

"Ready to go?" She was holding out her hand to me and I honestly couldn't think of a more perfect picture to press into memory.

"Sure," I breathed weakly. Taking her hand was probably going to kill me but I embraced my own death, letting those fingers take mine and giving into the glee that was threatening to explode from my chest if I didn't give it just a little more room to be.

She started pulling me down the hallway, never looking back as we bustled through and out the door to the stairwell. I almost missed the words as she murmured them forward, "You look nice."

"Not even close to half as nice as you," I blurted as the fire rose in my cheeks. Her head stayed forward but her fingers squeezed mine and, Death, did I want to count that as a win. The little bit of not-failure gave me a momentary breath. "So, where are we going?"

"You'll see," her voice chimed tortuously.

That was about the end of my courage and it felt like those anxious thoughts were about to come back and gut me. I tried to focus on the way her hair bounced with each step but I couldn't stop my eyes from traveling a little lower until the shame hit me almost as hard as the want. Last resort was reciting the ABCs and padding out the keys to a Nat King Cole song on my thigh. That saved me for a while until I realized the song I'd picked was "L-O-V-E" and fell into another crashing wave of feelings I should have been forgetting.

I didn't even think about how I was probably sending out the vibes now, making the connection between us muddied with nerves. She was still walking me through the streets, passing places we'd seen a million times. I'd never really even noticed them before but each one got new eyes tonight because each one was under scrutiny as to whether or not it was our final destination. We finally slowed in front of what used to be an old house, a red Victorian with white trim that made it look almost like a doll's house.

I slowed at the bottom of the stairs, letting our arms stretch as she went up two without me. "Didn't you want to go here with the girls?" It was just a snippet of a recent conversation I was remembering, something that probably shouldn't have found any foundation in my mind but I had been strangely jealous at the time.

"I wanted to come here, yes." She tugged on my hand and I took one more tentative step but stopped.

"But-"

This time she yanked me, cutting my words and making me take another stumbling step upwards. "I thought that going with you would be just as fun. Don't prove me wrong."

I gulped down any words I had in reply before following her to the top of the stairs. I had enough wits to push past her and open the door, something close to a gentleman at least. She didn't bless me with a smile there, a strange amount of focus on her face as we approached the host podium. Being led was the only thing I could do until we sat down and the waitress placed the menu in my hands.

Before I could even get my eyes to the paper her finger came to the top of my menu, pressing it down. "Save room for dessert. It's the reason we're here."

A laugh bubbled up from my throat as I found the tension leaving my fingers and a dopey smile covered my face. "I should have known. Is there a point in even getting food?"

"Of course! But if you don't have room for at least a dessert of your own I'm never going out with you again." A little splash of pink hit her cheeks and she dropped her eyes back to her menu.

I took a second to flick her menu. "If you think you're getting a bite of my dessert you have another thing coming, Maka Albarn."

A puff of air shot from her lips in disbelief before she crumbled into laughter. "Alright, Soul _Evans_."

I snorted back before focusing on my options for food. That part was easy since I'd never say no to a steak and any good restaurant has that as an option. Maka didn't take long either and our waitress seemed eager to get our night started, taking our orders and disappearing. This left me with nothing to hide behind anymore and her staring straight at me from across the table. "So…" I let my fingertips tap to the table before my mind offered up something close to conversation. "What's the next bet?"

Maka grinned as she rested her elbows on the table to prop up her chin. "I wouldn't mind doing this one again."

"Nah," I shook my head. "Lame to do the same thing again."

She pressed a finger to her lips in thought and there was the tingle in the muscles in my stomach again. Looking at her now I just knew I was in trouble, not based on what she was about to say but just at how strikingly beautiful she was and how it was impossible for me now not to see it in every single move she made. "How about… whoever doesn't finish all their dinner, dessert included has to tell the other a secret."

I wasn't too far gone to realize that was even more dangerous than the first bet. "What kind of secret?"

Maka innocently rolled her shoulders. "Whatever the other person wants."

"No way," I croaked, thinking of the millions of secrets I'd struggle to think about the answers to let alone say them. "Maybe just something that the loser wants to share."

Her eyebrows furrowed, her smile spreading into a thin line. "That wouldn't be a secret, right? Something you want to tell the other person?"

I tried to offer her a smile, hoping that she would take the bait in the act and my words. "A secret is just something the other person doesn't know."

Maka thought on that for a few breaths, eyes examining my face with a focus that made me break out into a sweat. "OK, deal. Whoever doesn't finish all their dinner, dessert included has to tell the other a secret of their choosing."

"Deal, though a contest with you and food… I might be doomed," I laughed.

She let a laugh out just to echo mine before letting some of the fun fall from her face. "Why didn't you make the same bet with me?"

"Huh?" I could have just answered the question but I needed to buy time for my mind to work.

Maka didn't waste any time in giving her answer, "The first time, we only bet about you, not about me."

"I, uh…" I rolled my shoulders while taking a deep breath. "Bossing you around would be impossible." Those words felt wrong and the way her eyebrows furrowed I knew I was in a piss-poor place. "I mean, not that _you _would be impossible about it just that… my day would be a lot more boring. The best I could do would be to make you get all the snacks for us while we sat on the couch. I'm just not that creative."

"That doesn't sound like a bad day, though." Her smile slowly came back as her hand came to her glass. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I didn't mind today," the words tumbled from my mouth without even a second to put thought into it.

She laughed as if that was the best joke I'd told all year. "I tortured you! The mall, the piano."

"So you admit it," I smirked.

There was a thin line of blush on her cheeks, "Not purposefully, but I know you don't exactly like those things. Well, you like piano, but playing it for me, for some reason, you can't stand."

"Playing it for anyone," I corrected. "And…" Here's where my words wanted to fail me, that dark little whisper trying to keep my mouth shut but a split second of her proud smile replaying in my mind seemed to spur me forward. "I can stomach anything when it's with you."

The blush spread along with a dangerous hope in the back of my mind. "Does that mean I don't have to have a bet to ask you to do those kinds of things?"

"Just ask," I smiled as I felt the same heat spread across my own face. "Can't promise I'll say yes every time but it's not pulling teeth." I let my eyes trail away from her and over her shoulder, motioning towards our oncoming waitress. "Especially if the food looks like that."

The pure bliss on her face when she sees food is always a pleasure to watch and this time was no different. Her eyes glowed at the plate before her on the table which looked just as much a work of art as the one in front of me. There wasn't any talking after that, Maka savoring through each bite with a variety of faces, all of which soothed and warmed me all at the same time. I tried not to actually watch her, but catching glances meant that sometimes I caught her doing the same thing, another source of food for that idiotic desire that I should have been smothering.

Finishing wasn't the hard part, it was contemplating putting anything more into my stomach that was decidedly difficult. By the time our plates were cleared and those dessert menus were placed in our hands, I was ready to concede to losing another bet. "I'm going to get the cheesecake." Her fingertip was back at her lips and I hated how much that focused my attention there, too many thoughts about the quality of her lips racing over my mind. "And you should get the creme brulee."

"Or I should just concede defeat." I dropped the menu to the table with a sigh.

"No," she elongated the vowel. "You have to get dessert, I told you!"

There wasn't a way to say no to that face, even with my body in jeopardy. "Promise you'll cremate me when my stomach bursts."

Maka mused with that finger again, a brilliant smile finally making it fall away. "I was thinking funeral pyre with you laid out over your bike."

The solid laugh jostled my dinner even more, making creme brulee feel even further from possible. "Couldn't have thought of a better way to go myself."

"I know you too well," it came out as a soft murmur as her eyes stared straight into me and the heat rose in my cheeks.

_Then I wish you'd see how crazy I am about you. I wish you'd just know and I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, doubt it, make myself feel wrong about it._

_**But it is wrong. You think she can trust you with her heart? The guy that snaps at every little thing? The guy with black blood running through his veins? You can't even always treat her well as a friend, so what makes you think you can do it as a boyfriend?**_

It was that moment that I knew I was going to lose the bet, not just because of the food I'd eaten but those words in my head that I was failing to digest. I was saved by the waitress, Maka's eyes not seeing the abrupt change in my face, the struggle with myself, as she placed our orders for dessert. By the time her attention came back to me I'd covered up enough of the turmoil for her to not even seem to notice the residuals I felt clinging to me.

"You better think of your secret," Maka chirped, her finger toying with the dessert spoon left on the table. "Because I bet I'll eat half of yours, too."

"I'm starting to think you have two stomachs," I muttered before running my fingers through my hair. "But I decided on a secret the minute we made the bet." Maybe that wasn't necessarily true but I knew I had to pick it now, to end the torment of indecision, to rip off the bandaid. That was if I could make myself stick to that decision. "Did you pick one?"

"Yeah, just in case," her smile trembled at the edges for a second before she exhaled a long breath. "Maybe I'll tell you mine anyway after you tell me yours."

"That's not how bets work," I shook my head as a slim laugh tumbled out of my mouth.

"But," it looked like she cut off her own words rather than having none, her mouth moving but without sound. Maka was saved by the dessert plates, her eyes still shining at the prospect. Apparently there wasn't a bet that Maka couldn't win and she stayed true to her word, eating hers and half of mine as I absently pushed around the sweet vanilla dessert with my spoon. Of course, I knew it tasted good, but everything touching my tongue now seemed like sand, poisoned by my own fear of what came next. "You lose," she added a laugh this time but the deja vu was still there, sending my mind back to the game and how hard it had been to control the emotions even then.

"No more making bets," I grumbled back, rolling my eyes to try to fake annoyance rather than the terror I was actually feeling.

_You're about to be free. You'll tell her and she'll blush and admit the same thing because how else could it go? Everything today has pointed towards-_

_**The fact that you're not good enough for her. Hell, even if she somehow did feel the same way, what are you going to do other than end of putting your foot in your mouth and ruining all of it?**_

We spent a few minutes squabbling over the check, a fight I knew I was doomed to lose from the beginning but obviously still tried anyway, before starting our way out of the restaurant. She trailed in front of me most of the way out until we exited the door and reached the top of the stairs. She paused and finally turned her face to me, a reserved smile there. "I was right, going with you was just as fun."

"I think this is where I'm supposed to say you're always right," it was weak but I was able to produce something close to my signature smirk.

"That would be nice," she laughed but it was cut off by me pushing my hand into hers. It wasn't as brave as I had wanted it to be, my index just hooking her pinky to bring her hand close enough to mine, but she took the hint and clasped onto mine. We started down the steps and when we reached the bottom and started along the walk her hand squeezed tighter, sending my eyes back to her face rather than the concrete under my feet. "Soul, the secret-"

"When we get home," I shot back quickly, cringing at how the emotions I was struggling with honed those words to a sharp edge. I tried to temper it with, "Please."

"You don't have to." There was comfort there in her voice and it made me hate myself even more after my little outburst. Why was I always proving that other voice right?

"I kinda do," I sighed and brought my eyes away from her as quickly as possible, focusing on the walk back to the apartment. I started the weak mantra of '_I'm going to do it'_ with each step, just trying to keep the fear of ruining my entire existence muted. She was quiet, didn't push, but I could feel that nervous energy exchanging between the two of us like an electric quality between our fingers. I'd be stupid if I didn't know that she felt it, too, and that maybe she was waiting with some terrible fear of her own.

Maka was always the courageous one and my claim to fame was more about overthinking and being overprotective. As we finally got back to the apartment complex, starting the walk up the stairs, I tried hoping, praying, begging that I could steal the courage from her fingertips. I needed it to take the plunge and as we walked through our doorway, Maka closing the door behind us, I could swear that maybe I had stolen just a little, just enough to get the words out.

With the door closed, I turned, those green eyes blinking back at me with concern. I couldn't let go of her hand, just holding it like a lifeline but it strained awkwardly now like a bridge in the space between us. "I like you," and with that all the courage fizzled, the childish, middle school phrase bouncing off the walls to embarrass me at every turn.

"I like you, too," she took a few thoughtful blinks before breaking out into a smile.

"No," I groaned back. "Maka, I _like_ you. I think about you… and I know I shouldn't. I just, I need you to tell me I shouldn't."

Her smile faltered but her fingers grasped mine tighter and I would be concerned for my circulation if I wasn't already overwhelmed with the moment. "Why?"

"Because," I barked back but lost it, no words coming after. Maka stared at me, giving me time but I was floundering. After a few more breaths and useless gapes of my mouth, Maka let me go, pushing past me and starting the walk towards the bedrooms. "Maka, wait!"

She didn't slow, didn't even seem to hear the words from my mouth as she turned into her bedroom. I stopped immediately at the doorway, hands gripping tightly to the sides to keep my legs from turning to rubber. Again, no recognition of me even being there, just her going to her nightstand and opening the drawer before taking out her journal. I'd seen her with it once or twice and knew better than to think of it as anything other than off-limits. She was flipping through the pages, turning back in days until she rested on a passage and brought the book to me, turning it. "Read it."

It was dated about six months ago and honestly, the first thing that crossed my mind was how much could she fucking write? Six months in pages seemed more like two years. "Maka-"

"Read it," she pressed.

"_Trying to ignore that there are feelings there is just becoming one of the only hopeless battles in my life. It gets worse every time he smiles at me, a smile that I swear is just for me even though that feels like an absurd fantasy. To make matters worse, I can feel him pulling away, trying to close off a part of himself and that's the last thing I want. I wish we were more open. I wish I could tell him that even though he doesn't always know the right thing to do with it, he has my heart. I'm never worried about his loyalty, or how much he cares about my existence, but I'm worried that he won't ever let himself be loved."_

"_I guess that's why I'm thinking, __only_ _thinking__, of going along with this plan of Liz's. I'm skeptical because bets are easy to lose and he doesn't always seem to be game for that sort of thing anyway. Liz is convinced he'll fall for it 'hook, line, and sinker' as she puts it. I guess I can believe he'll take the bait, but I'm still hesitant because what will he do when I tell him? I set him up on this date with me because he lost a bet and then I tell him I want a more than meister kind of relationship? He's going to laugh in my face because he doesn't feel the same way, or he'll be hurt because isn't this kind of a lie? A manipulation to get him to look at his feelings as much as I'm forcing myself to deal with my own?"_

"_I haven't agreed to it yet. Liz bothers me weekly and I'm afraid waterboarding will be next. But I'm more afraid of Soul and putting what we have already in jeopardy. I can't lose him, but at the same time, I can't ignore how I feel. I don't want to write 'love' here because maybe I don't even really know what that is yet, but I know that every day we're together there's a new feeling growing and I've started to look forward to it."_

I could barely hold the book anymore, my fingers trembling wildly. I risked a glance at her and she was staring, a worried smile on her lips.

"Next page," she whispered.

Turning it was far from easy. _"Things that could go wrong: 1. He'll officially shut me out. 2. I'll lose my partner, not just my weapon but the person who actually drives me to be better. 3. I think this might be the worst: he won't feel the same way and we'll have to try to be friends with this hanging between us. (I don't think I can survive that.)"_

_"Things that could go right: 1. Maybe this would force him to be open for once, not hiding anything anymore. 2. Maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way, not just friendly love like I keep making excuses for. 3. He'll kiss me." _Scribbles trailed off there, a swirl or two of black like she wanted to continue on that thought that had brought a bright blush to my cheeks.

"That's why I can't-"

I should have been more gentle but all of those words on the page had overwhelmed me to the point where all I could think of was the need to hold her. The journal fell to the floor with a heavy smack as my arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pressing Maka to my chest and eliciting a gasp of air from her mouth. It was close enough to feel almost every dip and curve of her body and I let my hands roam down her back to feel the rest. "I'm sorry," I blurted, the words sinking into her hair as I let my cheek rest against the top of her head.

"For what?" I could feel her breath through my shirt and it gave me goosebumps.

"For being an idiot," I muttered. "I was pulling away because… I was afraid I was going to hurt you by feeling the way I did."

Maka's fingers started to dig into the fabric of my shirt, not searching like mine but finding purchase as if she wasn't planning on ever letting go. "Hurt me by liking me?"

"Your mom, your dad, I've seen what they've done," it almost came out as a growl, that protective, old guard dog rearing its head. "Above everything else I want you to be happy and I wasn't sure that was with me."

There was a hiccup in her breath, a sigh that trembled through my shirt again as she just barely kept herself from bursting into tears. "Soul…"

I cleared my throat, trying not to dwell on that intense admission. "Today was a date, huh?"

Maka's sigh was long and slow. "Sort of. I didn't… I should have just told you."

"Probably would have gone the same," I offered up a laugh cut short as I did what felt impossible and pulled her a little closer. "Would have been nervous as hell either way. Still nervous as hell, but since it's a date…" I swallowed hard before relaxing my hands to her shoulders, trying to pull her back a little. "Can I give number three a try?" That was the last little bit of cool I had left and it earned me an ear to ear smile as her face moved from my chest to face me.

"I don't have to order you to?" Her voice was breathy and color had come to her cheeks, convincing me that she was even more beautiful than before.

"Don't." My hands drifted up to her shoulders, over the soft curve of her neck until they rested just at her jawline. "This one's all me." All of me was on fire even before I started the lean just from feeling that contagious happiness zinging off her soul, hitting me in perfect waves of joy. My full power smirk was what I pressed against her lips, overcome by the instant electricity of our connection. Daydreams are bullshit in the face of the real thing and all those moments before when I thought I'd been turned on felt bogus in comparison. I could have done that forever, just playing softly from her top lip to her bottom, but she pressed her hands into my chest, a shaky breath breaking across my lips as we finally parted.

"I…" her laugh was short and airy as she patted my chest again, her green eyes finally blinking open in a dreamy daze. "I bet you won't do that again."

There wasn't even a question in my mind that I was doing that again, a million times, every day, for the rest of our lives. "What do I get if I win?"

"Another date, maybe a girlfriend," the second part came with a coy smile.

"Both." It felt good to demand what I wanted, especially after a day of following the rules like a good boy. "Deal?"

"Deal."

For once, it was me who won the bet.


End file.
